


i'll make the world safe and sound for you

by zipadeea



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Child Loss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Obie Sucks, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Sorry Not Sorry, This Is Sad, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, a whole lot of dialogue is taken straight from iron man, based on 'hydra's not a home' universe, because netflix has a whole lot of shows for serial killers and missing children, i read the whole thing in like a day it was so good, netflix has a documentary on peter's disappearance, this is the afghanistan fic for 'hydra's not a home' universe, tony just wants his baby back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 14:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19087243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipadeea/pseuds/zipadeea
Summary: “This is your legacy, Stark. Your life’s work, in the hands of those murderers,” Yinsen says savagely. “Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?”“This is not my legacy,” Tony says quietly, thinking only of the bright-eyed six-year-old who loves dogs and the beach and the color red. The tiny boy with the unruly curls and Pepper’s smile.Peter is his legacy, the only legacy that has ever, and will ever matter. His greatest and most precious creation.He has to find him. He has to get out of here.***Tony's time in Afghanistan, based on the 'hydra's not a home' universe.





	i'll make the world safe and sound for you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [when you came into the world, you cried and it broke my heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16132703) by [tempestaurora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora). 



> Dude, just binge read tempestaurora’s ‘hydra’s not a home’ series, and holy shit do I recommend it. Premise is Peter is Tony and Pepper’s biological child, and he’s kidnapped by Hydra when he’s six. Coincidentally, Hydra’s Black Spider encounters the Avengers ten years later and THINGS HAPPEN. Tis excellent. 
> 
> Forewarning, I didn’t get any specific permission to write this, besides a kind blessing to all from the author in the author’s notes of one of the stories, so I’m going for it. Tempestaurora, if you ever see this, I really hope you enjoy it. Thanks for creating such a great AU to mess around in. 
> 
> The title comes from the song “Dear Theodosia”, because, in the words of the author: “title very obviously from the number one irondad spiderson song: dear theodosia from hamilton”, so I figured I could mooch some more. Hope you enjoy!

000 

“It will be good for you, Tony,” Obie says softly, hand on his arm. “Get away from this circus for a few days. Go get your feet wet again, it’ll be an easy sale.” 

It hasn’t been a circus for Tony. It’s been a three-month long waking nightmare. It’s been worse than hell.  

And Peter still isn’t home.  

Tony is snidely about to shout as much into Obie's rugged, round face when: 

“Just two days, kiddo,” the man says with a sigh, running a tired hand over his eyes. “I would go, you know I would, it’s just been a bit...hectic here.”  

And Tony’s anger immediately withers and dies. For as hopeless and lost and exhausted as Tony and Pepper have become in the wake of Peter’s disappearance, they’ve never had to worry about work, worry about the state of the company. Obie has handled everything: the initial stock hit, the cataclysmic media storm, the continuation of day-to-day operations. Over the past months, Obie has shouldered the work at SI for all three of them, and never complained once, never asked for one single thing in return.  

Obie has already done so much for their family; Tony can handle this one little sale for him.  

000 

“Goodbye,” Tony whispers into Pepper’s ear as he hugs her, before boarding the jet with Rhodey. “I love you so much.”  

Pepper holds him close and says the same.  

It’s not that they never said “I love you” to each other prior to Peter’s kidnapping. They did often, to each other and to their beloved son.  

But now, they make a point of saying it every time they’re separated.  

You never know which one will be the last goodbye.  

000 

 _“Daddy--Daddy, help!”_  

 _“No--Peter! Let him go,_ please _\--,”_  

“Tony!” Tony wakes with a gasp, the world around him shaken by the tight hand on his shoulder. Rhodey’s crouched in front of him, eyes a dark mixture of pity and horrible grief. “Tony,” he says again, softly this time, gently using his hands to try and break the interlocking death grip Tony’s using to hug the pillow to his chest.  

A pillow. Not his son, not Peter, because no, those fuckers managed to knock Tony out, to rip his baby straight out of his arms and take him God knows where. From his home of all places, the one place in the world where Peter Stark should have been  _safest_ \-- 

“Deep breaths, Tones. That’s it, in and out....” Tony realizes he’s crying again, the tears falling hot and fast down his cheeks.  

He doesn’t even bother trying to hide them anymore.  

000 

In the past, Tony’s made quite the affair of his international sales. He’s cocky and ostentatious, taking pageantry and awe as far as he can manage.  

But that day, that quiet, windy day in the desert of Afghanistan, Tony doesn’t try much. The demonstration goes off without a hitch, the deal is made, and Tony shakes some hands before being ushered into a waiting Jeep.  

It’s a very silent ride for the most part, Tony watching the landscape glide out the window, idly wondering to himself what the landscape Peter sees right now looks like, wondering if Peter even has a window.  

Wondering if Peter is even still alive.  

“Mr. Stark?” a timid voice finally asks to his left. Tony turns. The soldier next to him doesn’t look a day over twenty. Once he realizes he has Tony’s attention, he continues. “I just wanted to say, I—we're all—we're so sorry for the pain you and your family are experiencing, sir. I really can’t imagine anything more terrifying or heartbreaking.” The kid’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat.  

“But your son won’t be forgotten. I know he won’t, Mr. Stark. He will be found.” The hope and determination in the kid’s voice bring new, errant tears to Tony’s eyes.  

This has been the most astonishing part of Peter’s disappearance: learning the kindness of strangers. Every day there are calls, emails and letters from parents who have lost their children to similar fates. Recommendations for private investigators, for therapists. Search parties have assembled in seemingly minutes, fundraisers and candle-lit vigils planned and well-attended.  

All because a child is gone.  

Excluding whoever has had the gall to steal his child, Tony can safely say, to the world at large, Peter Stark has not been punished for the sins of his father.  

He is a child. A precious child, a prodigy child. And the people of America, of the world, have banded together to search and grieve.  

It’s truly overwhelming.  

“Thank you,” Tony says honestly. “That means--,” 

But the soldier will never know how much it means to Tony, because at that moment their caravan is ambushed, and the kid is dead.  

000 

The world passes in jumps of hazes and moments of terrifyingly painful clarity.  

At one point, claws begin ripping into his chest, agonizingly digging, searching.  

“You’re too late!” Tony wishes he could scream. “My heart is already gone.” 

But he can’t.  

So, the futile search continues.  

000 

Eventually, Tony wakes up, and discovers three things:  

1) A doctor named Yinsen performed open heart surgery on him in a dirty cave in Afghanistan.  

2) He’s being kept alive by a car battery.  

3) His kidnappers are called the Ten Rings, they have _Tony’s_ weapons, and they want him to build a Jericho missile. 

These are the facts. This is Tony’s conclusion:  

Someone at Stark Industries is double dealing. And it may have already cost his only child his life.  

“This is your legacy, Stark. Your life’s work, in the hands of those murderers,” Yinsen says savagely. “Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?” 

Anger, hot and bright, comes pouring in, replacing the apathy that has dominated Tony’s emotions for so long. Tony has been kidnapped, Tony has been ransomed by a known terrorist organization just three months after master assassins broke into their home and stole his child from his arms.  

Tony Stark has never believed in coincidences. He’s not about to start now.  

Here is a clue. Here  _finally_  is the path to an answer.  

“This is not my legacy,” Tony says quietly, thinking only of the bright-eyed six-year-old who loves dogs and the beach and the color red. The tiny boy with the unruly curls and Pepper’s smile.  

Peter is his legacy, the only legacy that has ever, and will ever matter. His greatest and most precious creation.  

He has to find him. He has to get out of here.  

Tony gets to work.  

000 

“You still haven’t told me where you’re from,” Tony reminds Yinsen, during one of their few and far between work breaks.  

“I am from a small town called Gulmira,” Yinsen answers, small, fond smile on his face. “It’s actually a nice place.” 

“Gotta family?” Tony asks.  

The smile falls. Yinsen tilts his head thoughtfully. “Yes. And I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?” Yinsen looks back up, eyes piercing.  

“My wife, Pepper, and I, we have one son. A six-year-old named Peter.” 

For the first time in his memory, Yinsen offers him a genuine smile. “You, too, will see them again when you leave here.” 

“I’m not so sure that I will,” Tony says, voice breaking as he buries his face in his hands.  

000 

Yinsen is decidedly kinder to Tony after he learns of Peter’s kidnapping.  

Not that he’d ever been unkind by any means, but the interactions between them are noticeably warmer. Yinsen begins sharing stories of his two lovely daughters, Adnan and Macide, describing pictures they drew, pets that they loved, the bouquets they would pick for their mother from the wildflowers in the back field.  

And in turn, Tony talks about Peter in a way he hasn’t allowed himself to since he disappeared. He talks about how smart and clever Peter is. How kind. How much he loves to swim. He talks about the baby blanket Peter carried around until it was worn and ragged, the way he sneaks under the covers from the end of the bed when he has nightmares and slides himself right in between Pepper and him.  

It hurts, but it helps, too, helps to remember his little boy, to remember what exactly he’s fighting for. To remember just what could be waiting for him when he returns.  

“Pepper wouldn’t have stopped,” Tony explains one day, “Peter has always been our first priority. Even with me missing she—she'll never stop searching for him. She’ll find him, she won’t rest ‘til she does.” The thought stops Tony short for a moment. “God, I hope she’s okay. I hope she found Peter already. I can’t--shit, she’s all  _alone_.”  

Yinsen puts a calming hand on Tony’s shoulder. “The best thing you can do for her now, Stark, is get out of here. Worry about one challenge at a time.” 

Tony takes a deep breath and nods.  

There’s nothing he can do but agree.  

000 

“Yinsen, do you think—do you think it’s possible Peter is here? Do you think anyone at this camp has information on his whereabouts?” 

“Those are two separate questions, Stark,” Yinsen says ruefully, but frowns at Tony’s expression. “To the first, no. If your son were here, they would have told you the first day. That's the best leverage anyone could have, Stark, be logical. To not use it would be extraordinarily stupid.  

“To the second...” Yinsen frowns again. “It is possible. But there are nearly a hundred people at this camp just from what we’ve seen. And even with the suit, I don’t expect we will ever be in a position to demand that information be given to us and still get away safely.  

“At this point, it’s a matter of priorities. Do we wish to stay back and question every person at this camp for your son’s whereabouts, or do you want to get to safety and be alive to meet your son again?” 

The logic is sound. They’re the conclusions he’d already drawn himself, but hearing a second, rational voice say them makes it sound better.  

Still, Tony can’t help but feel like he’s betraying his son. He’s going to abandon the best lead they’ve had in months to save himself.  

000 

“Say it again.”  

“Forty-one steps straight ahead...sixteen steps next from the door. Fork right....Thirty-three steps, turn right.” 

...

...

...

“Make sure the checkpoints are clear before you follow me out, okay? 

“We need more time.” Yinsen mutters, more agitated that Tony has ever seen the normally composed doctor. “I’m going to go buy you some time.” 

“No--stick to the plan. Stick to the plan! YINSEN!” 

...

...

...

“Stark--,” 

“C’mon, we gotta go. Move for me, we gotta plan, we gotta stick to it.” 

“This was always the plan, Stark.” 

“C’mon, you gotta go see your family again.” 

Yinsen’s voice is barely a whisper. “My family’s dead. I’m going to see them now, Stark....It’s okay. I want this. I want this.”  

Tony pulls himself together, allows the last thing this man sees of him, sees of the world be a smile. “Thank you for saving me.”  

Yinsen swallows thickly. “Find your son. Make—make the world safe for him. For everyone.” 

And then, Ho Yinsen dies.  

000 

Tony burns the whole camp to ash before flying away.  

He burns and crashes and burns, and walks until he’s sure he can’t take another step.  

Then, he keeps on walking.  

000 

Tony isn’t sure how long he’s been walking when the helicopters fly overhead. All he knows is he’s burned and hurt and thirsty, and James Rhodes is guaranteed to be on one of them. He waves his hands like a loon, shouting as screaming as the helicopters land before him.  

Tony sinks to his knees when he’s proven correct, watching his best friend sprint through the sand toward him.  

“Tony,” Rhodey gasps, kneeling before him. “Next time you ride with me, okay?”  

“Peter,” Tony chokes out, completely ignoring the tactless joke. “Peter. Did you--,” 

Rhodey doesn’t have to say anything; the expression on his face is enough.  

Tony curls up in the sand of the desert and cries without tears. His sobs are heaving and choking and broken. The needle to his neck is a mercy.  

God, does Tony hate hope.  

000 

Pepper runs up the jet’s ramp to meet him. She’s crying too hard to form words, just buries her face in his neck and sobs, hugs him so tightly there will probably be more bruises.  

He curses the sling around his right arm, clutching frantically to her with his left, with his face in her hair, smelling the familiar coconut and vanilla in her shampoo.  

“I didn’t find him,” Pepper finally manages to whisper, voice cracked and broken. “I didn’t find him, Tony.” 

“Neither did I.”  

000 

Tony refuses a hospital and calls for a press conference instead.  

They pick up cheeseburgers first. Tony doesn’t miss the way Happy nearly orders Peter’s kids meal. He catches himself just in time.  

“I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them,” Tony confesses to the journalists and cameras scattered before him. “And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.”  

A few hesitant questions from the crowd. Tony nods his head to the guy in the front.  

“What happened over there?”  

"I had my eyes opened. I came to realize I have more to offer this world than just making things to blow up. And that is why, effective immediately, I’m shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International--,” 

The room erupts in shouted questions.  

“My son,” Tony says, voice wavering. The whole room immediately quiets again. “My son Peter is still gone. And I am heartbroken. My wife and I will never stop searching for him. We won’t stop until our child is back in our arms, and we can once again be whole.  

Tony clears his throat. The lump growing there is making it hard to speak. “But until then, until Peter is home and our world is right, we can make the world he lives in, the world we all live in, a safer place. And the most obvious and easiest answer for that currently is to end our weapons manufacturing division. No questions. “ 

Tony stalks off the stage, grabs Pepper’s hand, and walks out of the building, head held high. In the background, he can hear Obie’s futile attempts at damage control, trying and failing to undermine the damning words he’s just spoken.  

The company will take a hit. Investing fully in the arc reactor and clean energy may not be successful. But, for the first time in a very long time, Tony feels he’s finally made the right decision.  

000 

 _Ten years later_  

Tony finds Peter in the living room, sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV. His legs are hanging over the armrest of the couch, revealing feet with the socks kicked halfway off; only his heels are visible.  

Tony can’t help but grin when he notices. Peter always kicked his socks off like that as a child.  

“Ugh, this is so stupid,” Peter complains, craning his neck to see Tony on the other side of the couch.  

“What is?” Tony asks, looking up at the television to see a very familiar, very old news conference playing. A shiver goes up his spine at the reminder.  

“Documentary on my disappearance. Netflix is kind of weirdly obsessed with making shows about serial killers and missing children, don’t you think? 

Tony just shrugs.  

Peter sits up all the way and pulls his knees to his chest. “Sorry if this is—I guess this is pretty rude isn’t it? I’m sorry, I’ll turn it off,” Peter rambles, face red and he reaches for the remote on the coffee table. Tony grabs his arm to stop him.  

“No, Peter. It’s, it’s okay. I—it's not like your mom and I really like talking about that time in our lives, but you deserve to know what happened. You have every right to watch, kiddo.” 

Peter shrugs, but still picks up the remote and pauses the movie. The screen shows a picture of a candlelit vigil that had been held down the street from the Malibu house two nights after the attack.  

“Do you think I can be more than this?” Peter finally asks, eyes wide with the question. He must notice Tony’s confusion, because he continues. “What if all I’m ever remembered as is a missing child? Poor little Peter Stark, this century’s Lindbergh baby. What if that’s my legacy?”  

Tony feels his mouth drop open, before simply sitting on the couch and gathering Peter into his side.  

“You are way too young to be worried about legacy kiddo.”  

“But, what if--,”  

“Ten years ago, you know what people used to call me?” Peter shakes his head instead of giving a shit-eating answer, which is how Tony knows just how serious his son is about this. 

“The Merchant of Death.”  

Silence for a moment.  

“Okay, that's awful, and I get the meaning, but also, that’s soooo badass--,” 

Tony can’t help but grin a bit. “Yeah, maybe. People hated me though, Peter. Called me a genocidal maniac. Said my fortune had been built on the blood of innocents.  

“It wasn’t until Afghanistan that I realized they were right. I changed though, kiddo. Changed my goals, changed my life. Changed my legacy.  

“Well,” Tony concedes, “I changed the world’s perception of me. My legacy has always been the same.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Peter asks, genuinely curious.  

“You, kid. You're the only legacy that has ever, and will ever matter. You’re my greatest creation.” 

Peter sniffs, and turns his head into Tony’s shoulder to hide his tears. “Don’t let Mom hear you say that. I think she did most of the hard work for the creation part.” 

Tony barks out a laugh, and Peter smiles.  

“Thanks, Dad.” Peter whispers, and another piece of Tony’s broken heart knits itself back together again.  

“Anytime, kid. Anytime.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh, yeah this story really probably won't make much sense if you haven't read tempestaurora's stories, so you really should. But, hope you enjoyed the story! let me know your thoughts.
> 
> i'm zipadee on tumblr now :) come say hi


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